Good Intentions
by Channel D
Summary: Tim has been drafted by Hollis Mann for a mission to save Gibbs...from spiders? Humor. One-shot, set in season 4. Mild Gibbs/Hollis. Written for the NFA Random Pairing Generator challenge.


**Good Intentions**

**by channelD**

* * *

written for: the NFA Random Pairing Generator challenge  
rating: K plus  
setting: season 4  
random pairing: Tim and Hollis (platonic; romantic pairing is Hollis/Gibbs)  
prompt: Timothy McGee/Hollis Mann/1,000 spiders  
genre: your guess is as good as mine (mostly humor)  
warning: This story concerns spiders. If you're phobic about spiders, don't read this.

* * *

_disclaimer_: I don't own anything of NCIS today, either.

* * *

"I appreciate your accompanying me on this mission, Agent McGee." Lt. Colonel Hollis Mann peered at the young agent in the slight gloom of the museum's low-level lighting.

Tim smiled back at the Army officer. "My pleasure, ma'am. Anything that can help the boss is bound to make my life easier."

Her attention turned to the large display case. "Discretion is the word of the day. No one must find out that he has a…a fear…of…"

"A phobia."

Hollis snorted. "People of Jethro's caliber do not have phobias, McGee. A mild fear at best."

"Yes, ma'am," Tim said, grinning. "Now…if we're to get the boss over his…fear of spiders, you think the best way to do so is to condition him to them?"

"It's proven military training. You want a battlefield dog to not be spooked by shelling—get it used to the sound of explosions. You want soldiers to be steady shots under fire…practice, practice, practice."

"I suppose," Tim said, gamely. "So figure out which spiders would be best, and we'll find out where we can get them. Since I assume you want live spiders and not dead ones for this."

"Of course live spiders. Confront your fears head-on, I always say."

"Good," said Tim. When Hollis had asked him to accompany her to the Smithsonian to see the spider collections, he'd had a slight worry that she might want to make off with some of the dead critters.

"What do you think of the cellar spider? Would that be a good specimen?"

Tim looked closely at the spindly-legged creature. "We called those 'daddy long legs' when I was a kid. I think only the most squeamish person would be afraid of them."

"I should have asked: You're not afraid of spiders, are you, McGee?"

"No, ma'am. Bugs have never frightened me."

"Me, either. But phobias don't have to be rational. If not the cellar spider, which would you choose for Gibbs?"

"Hmmm…How about the cobweb spider, over here? It's kind of attractive, with its banded legs and spotted abdomen, without looking like something from a horror movie."

"I'll go along with that. Now to find the curator and ask where we can get about a thousand…"

Tim kept from chuckling. A task like this would have been something he would have done entirely online. But that was not the method favored by Gibbs' and Hollis' generation. They preferred personal contact, and that was so much more interesting. He could imagine what the curator's reaction might be.

* * *

"I'm disappointed," Hollis grumbled half an hour later as they left the museum. "I wouldn't have guessed that it would be so hard to buy 1,000 identical spiders. Don't we always hear that bugs live in large colonies?

"Maybe spiders are anti-colonialists," Tim said, earning a grin from his companion. "So we can't get 1,000 cobweb spiders quickly. Why not just get what we can, and fill in the rest with other breeds? Species? Gangs? Whatever spider groups are."

" 'Clusters', I think. We'll make do. Yes, that's a plan. We'll make do."

* * *

It was easy to get into Gibbs' house; perhaps the one house within 50 miles whose doors were never locked. A light was on in the basement, where no doubt Gibbs would be tending to his boat. "Uh…are you sure you want me to come with you, Colonel?" Tim asked, suddenly shy. He had a vague idea that his boss and the officer had some sort of relationship, and he might be a third wheel.

"Of course I do, McGee! For one thing, I can't carry three large jars of spiders all by myself." Hollis beckoned him to follow her. "But maybe you should hide behind the curtain. Just to be there in case Jethro tumbles over and needs catching."

"I hope he doesn't," Tim breathed. Awk-waaaard…

* * *

They had managed to cobble together roughly 1,000 spiders from a dealer, and it had been a long driver out to West Virginia to get the spiders. Their purchase had consisted of about 400 cobweb spiders and approximately 600 spiders of two other types with long names, colorful bodies, and rows of tiny eyes. Each type was in its own container.

"Let's turn them loose," Hollis whispered in the living room. "Oh, and until I get Jethro up here, try to keep them from running for the corners."

Spider-herder. Something to add to my résumé, Tim thought as he poured confused spiders out onto the hardwood floor.

Hollis meanwhile walked over to the basement door and opened it, calling down, "Jethro! Are you down there?"

"Holly! Come on down; I can use the company." Gibbs called back in a tone that made Tim want to run. Instead he tiptoed across the room and got behind a curtain.

"I will, but come up here, first. I think you have a problem."

"A problem? With what?" Gibbs nonetheless came up, still wiping his hands on a rag as he reached the doorway.

"You have a little infestation, I think." Hollis pointed at the spiders milling in the middle of the floor.

Gibbs stared. "What in the name of—"

"Now, Jethro; stay calm. Don't freak out. Yes, they're bugs and unpleasant, but you can face your fears and—"

"Spiders aren't bugs, Holly. They're a different order. And I don't know how they got in here, but it looks like they're declaring war!"

It was true: the three types of spiders all seemed to be mortal enemies. They were pouncing on each other, biting and struggling; battling to the death. All they needed was insignia to identify who was in charge. "Gah! Get a broom from the kitchen, Holl; we'll sweep them up and get rid of them."

Lured by this curious turn of events, Tim came out from behind the curtain to see the carnage for himself. Gibbs only nodded half-closed eyes toward him. "McGee. I should have known. What were you two up to?"

Keeping her pinking face away while she swept up spider bodies, Hollis said, "It was for your own good, Jethro. I drafted McGee to help after you said you had arachnophobia. A fear of spiders is something that is not good for a person working in the field to have!"

Gibbs eyed her curiously, and then burst out laughing. "You misheard me, Holly. I didn't say I had _arachnophobia_. I said I have _arachibutyrophobia_."

Tim's mind whirled. " 'Arachi' means 'ground nut'…"

"It's why you'll never find me swiping your NutterButter cookies, McGee. It's the fear of having peanut butter stick to the roof of your mouth."

"Oh."

Hollis stood up, very erect, and brushed her hands off. "Well. The first thing we must do, then, is help you get over this fear. McGee: Find me a supplier of NutterButter cookies. At least 1,000. Then we'll…"

Gibbs took her arm, smiling. "Go home, McGee."

Tim mumbled a good night and left. At least peanut butter cookies didn't crawl around and eat each other.

-END-


End file.
